


We'll Make This Work

by withaflashoflove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflashoflove/pseuds/withaflashoflove
Summary: Barry & Iris fight and make up.





	

She told him she wanted some space. Exactly three days ago, she told him she wanted to take a break from what they’d been building for past four months. Not that they were exactly together, but they were _close_. And _close_ is what hurt the most. Close meant they were finally getting somewhere. Close meant they were making progress. Close meant she was in his arms a few minutes earlier and then she was running out the door.

And he let her go.

Today was the third day in a row he didn’t leave home. Today was the third day in a row he felt aching pain in his chest. He couldn’t move, feeling numb to the surrounding world. Because she walked out. And he let her go.

_“You run to save everyone in the blink of an eye,” Iris shouted, “you can’t even stay by my side when I need you the most!”_

Her words rang in his ears, replaying over and over. It was a song he desperately wanted to turn off, couldn’t handle listening to anymore. It hurt too much. Her pain. Her sadness.

_“Barry the one night where I needed you more than ANYONE else, you don’t show up! You don’t call! You don’t text! You leave me all alone and scared and worried and hurt -_

He remembers cutting her off and pulling her into his embrace, only to feel her push hard against his chest, shoving him away. He’d never seen her that angry before. 

_“You don’t get to do that! Not this time! This time, you were too late.”_

And with those final words and tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned around, grabbed her coat and walked away, slammed the door behind her so loud that their picture frame came crashing down, glass shattering at his feet.

 He spent the next 30 minutes, cleaning up the mess. No speed. Just human. The venom from her voice filled the living room.

He couldn’t stop crying.

Maybe he didn’t chase after her because he knew she had a point. But he didn’t know how to face that reality. Everybody always needed him.

He needed her.

When she needed him, he let her down. And so the cycle continued.

He should’ve known not be late this time around. Not when she called him in tears a few hours earlier. 

_“I feel like I’m breaking apart.”_

He tried to calm her. He tried to keep his voice steady to counter her shaky one. He tried to convey all his warmth and love through the mic on his phone. He knew it wasn’t enough. So he promised her he’d be there this time. He promised her he’d be on time. He promised her they’d spent the entire night together. And he meant every word.

But life didn’t stop for him. And she had to understand that at this point. Life didn’t stop to make room for _them_.

So he screamed _fuck you_ right back at the world.

The night she walked out, he slept on the couch because his bed smelled too much like her and it made him sick to his stomach. The morning after, he didn’t wake till 3 p.m. because sleeping was better than facing a reality without her. When he turned on his phone, text messages and phone calls flooded it. The only text he sent was to Joe, a brief _I’m_ _okay_ to reassure him that nothing bad had happened. And then he turned it off again and went back to sleep. That same night, he stayed up staring at the picture from the shattered picture frame for hours on end. His tears stained the ink, so much so that the colors smeared together. He threw his phone against the wall to make sure he didn’t call her. He missed her voice the most. 

On the second morning, he finally made his way to bed, only to lay down on her side, clutch her pillow close, and stay curled in its embrace for the entire afternoon. He missed her smell the most. That night, he ate an egg and a slice of toast to prevent his body from collapsing. He put on a movie and absentmindedly watched it, only to think about holding her in his arms and how movies sucked without her there. How everything sucked without her there. He missed her touch the most. 

On the third morning, he sat on the bed. He swore he forget what it meant to breath. He swore he forgot who he was. He checked his watch, its display showing 11:30. Just then, he heard a knock.

 

* * *

 

**_“I need space Barry. I can’t do this right now.”_ **

Her words played over and over in her head, and she regretted ever saying them in the first place. Regretted being so hard-headed and unnecessarily independent. Regretted thinking she could walk away from him and not want to run back immediately after.

Today was the third day in a row without him. Today was the second day she woke up at CCPN because she didn’t bother going home the night before. Today was the third day in a row coffee ran through her veins, too much of it going to waste because she definitely wasn’t concentrating on anything other than him. 

She couldn’t stop moving. She couldn’t stop from jumping from story to story, articles coming to life fast under her fingertips. Today, she couldn’t keep busy enough, running from place to place.

Because she walked out. And he let her go.

 _“Iris_ _please understand!” Barry begged her, “I did the best I could! I got here as soon as I could; I just couldn’t miss this fight. It would’ve hurt them and Cisco and Caitlin needed my help!”_

It was a valid excuse, she had to give him that. It’s not like she didn’t know he was being sincere, because he was always sincere and honest when it came to her. But her apathy got the best of her. Or maybe it was the opposite of apathy. Maybe it was love.

_“I TRIED to call! I wanted to come home the minute you called me earlier today, I swear to you! You have to believe me, I did everything I could, but they wouldn’t let me leave. I am SO sorry._ _They said it wasn’t safe to call you until we put him away. Iris, please believe me!”_

His voice broke her heart. But she didn’t believe him. She turned around and left him. She believes him now.

Maybe it was because she’d been having the worst week of her life. Maybe it was because she was scared out of her mind that her brother was going _too fast_ all of a sudden and her dad was encouraging him. Maybe it was because it’d been a year since she found out her mom was alive, only to have to deal with losing her again. Maybe it was because she was frustrated with how many doors shut in her face with this article and how her editor was kicking her ass about it, even though she tried everything she could to catch a break. Maybe it was because she and Linda had a huge fight and she felt like she was losing everybody in her life. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen Barry in days, hadn’t felt his hands on her, hadn’t slept next to the comfort of his body.

Maybe it was because she was just so tired of having to keep it together.

She’d called him earlier that day, doing everything she could to hold in her heartache.

_“Baby I promise you, I will be there tonight. You are so strong. I am so proud of you.”_

His words got her through the rest of the day. And she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and feel his around her. She wanted nothing more than to stay within the solace of his home. She couldn’t wait to feel his comfort.

But he didn’t come home. One hour. No Barry.

Two hours. No phonecall. Three hours. No sign.

She waited.

When he walked through the door, her heart had almost stopped beating out of fear. _God_ she was so worried about him.

So she hugged him and hit him and yelled at him and pushed him away and _ran_. Because she couldn’t handle losing him. But she couldn’t handle seeing him.

Three days later, it was a different mood. 

The night she left his house, she expected him to chase after her. When he didn’t, she drove back to her apartment, only to collapse on the steps. Her grief overwhelmed her; it felt like her chest wouldn’t stay sound anymore. The morning after, she rushed to CCPN at 6 a.m., running off two hours of sleep and three cups of caffeine. She buried her head in her files, finally caught her break with the story, didn’t look up for 12 hours straight. Linda, Iris would later find out, slid a pillow under her head when she saw her asleep on her desk.

The second morning, Iris woke up with a stiff neck and sore back. Still she tracked the lead, closed the second story and submitted it to the editor before the clock struck 5:00. Linda told her to catch her breath. She didn’t listen. Only apologized to the sports’ reporter and told her she had more work to do. That night, she spent every hour in the darkness of CCPN looking at pictures of her and Barry. Her editor woke her up the morning after, told her to take the day off, told her to go home and get a proper night’s rest, told her she was doing too much for others and not enough for herself.

Her phone’s battery was drained. She felt cold. But her apartment wasn’t warm enough.

So her two feet walked her over all the way back to his apartment, needing nothing more than the sanity of his touch. At 11:30, she lifted her hand to knock.

* * *

 

They stood face to face, neither breaking the invisible barrier that separated her outside world and his inside home. He stared at her, eyes groggy from too much sleep and too many tears. She stared back, bags heavy on her face, red staining the white of her sclera.

She reached up to touch him. He leaned down to hold her.

Her head came to rest on his chest. His came to rest above hers. Their tears mingled together, and soon enough, neither knew which sobs left whose lips.

He took her inside. She closed the door. 

Slowly, he pulled his body off hers, only to reach for her hand. She linked hers with his and they made their way to the living room, back to the same place the fight happened three days ago.

They let silence flood the room. 

Somehow, they found the couch beneath their bodies. Somehow, their hands were still linked. 

 _Apologize_. Iris repeated the word in her head. 

 _Apologize_. Barry promised himself he’d say it in the next second. It’d been three minutes and he still couldn’t find his voice.

Her eyes finally broke contact from his and instead of saying anything else, her lips found their way to his. 

His tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, landing on tip of her mouth. His head fell to her neck.

She held him tight.

“Next time,” he breathed wearily.

“I know,” she reassured him, still clinging to the nape of his neck, still pulling him tight to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” 

Barry pulled away to look her in the eyes. Iris’s finger came to wipe the trace of a tear still lingering on his cheek. 

“It’s hard sometimes,” he started.

“But we’ll make it work,” she finished.

That day, they spent every hour wrapped in each other. That day, he peppered kisses along the places it hurt the most. That day, she whispered _I love you_ every chance she got. That day, there was nothing but them, and all the heartbreak and broken glass and angry voices were long forgotten.

That day, they explained and they understood and they talked and they laughed and they made love and they kissed, never leaving sight of each other.

That night, she stayed. 

That night, he held her close.


End file.
